What the Future Holds
by kuschelirmel
Summary: Crossover Angel / Highlander with OC Ashley plus Duncan, Methos, Angel, Spike, Cordy & Doyle - What happens when a pre-immortal gets bitten by a vampire? Ashley is about to find out! - sorry, forever unfinished ;
1. Chapter 1

_Moved to "Highlander" because it seems that that will be the more prominent fandom. _

* * *

**CHAPTER 1**

Shivering, Ashley tried to button up her jacket without letting the umbrella slip. When her numb fingers had managed to do so, she looked down at the crouched figure of her mother trying to concentrate on the mundane things before her.

The way her mother's jacket touched the ground, soaking in the wet grass. The way the rain dropped from the sides of the umbrella and how she needed to hold it so her mum wouldn't get any wetter.

Ashley couldn't help but think how fitting it was that the weather had decided to take a turn for the worse. She inhaled deeply and tried once more to concentrate. She knew if she let her mind wander, she would dissolve into tears.

Determined to be strong she focused on her mother draping roses beneath the headstone. Standing up straight, her mother glanced at her, trying to see if she needed support, but not wanting to intrude into her thoughts. Ashley averted her eyes, afraid she would lose composure.

Mother and daughter stood silently besides the grave of their beloved husband and father. It had been a year since his car had crashed, but still both of them felt the void his absence had left them with more than clearly.

Blinking back the rising tears, Ashley looked at her mother again. She touched her hand implying they should leave. The older woman pulled her daughter into an embrace. Walking closely together under the umbrella, they made their way up the walkway to the parking lot.

Back at the house, Ashley turned on her stereo and the warm tones of a saxophone filled the room. A smoky voice began to sing the blues as she sat down on the bed. The memory of her father listening to this kind of music in front of the fireplace washed over her. Clutching her pillow she let the tears stream down her face.

"Ashley, do you want some tea?" The voice of her mother reached her through the closed door.

Hastily dabbing at her eyes with the corner of the bed sheet she tried to regain her composure. "I'll be down in a minute."

She didn't want her mother to see she'd been crying. She felt she had to be strong, especially since her brother wasn't much of a help. _At least not in the past year_. The thought gave her some measure of focus, as anger usually did. _No, Mum surely doesn't need another Joey._

In the bathroom, she splashed her face with cold water, hoping to remove any trace of her breakdown.

Downstairs, Rita Brennan set two cups on the table. She hadn't even bothered asking Joey if he wanted some tea, too, knowing she would be lucky if she saw him at all. He had taken to leaving his room only when it was absolutely necessary – for school, to go out with his friends or for dinner if he couldn't find an excuse to stay away. Ever since Frank had died, he'd retreated more and Rita was unsure of what to do.

She'd tried forcing him to participate in family life, but that approach had resulted in more arguments than she could bear. She'd tried offering him a shoulder to cry on or at least an ear to hear out what it was that bothered him so much, but he'd refused to talk pretending there was nothing to talk about.

She'd also tried grounding him, but after a while she got convinced that if he wouldn't confide in her, he might talk to his friends and taking that away couldn't be healthy for a boy his age either. No matter what she tried, it left a bitter taste in her mouth.

Seeing the watery gleam in her daughter's eyes as she came down the stairs confirmed Rita's suspicion. Ashley had been crying and judging from the fresh make up around her eyes didn't want her mother to know.

"Is everything all right?" Rita asked.

Ashley stared at the tea pot, avoiding eye contact. "Sure... It's just the rain and the date that's wearing me down a bit. " She knew she had to give her mother something, but she wasn't going to pour her heart out.

Rita nodded with a weary smile. "One year already..." She left the sentence hanging between them, unfinished like so many things had been when her husband died.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, neither wanting to be disrespectful to the others reverie. Finally, Ashley couldn't bear it any more. "At least today, Joey could show some support. I mean, it was his Dad just the same. How can he be so cold?"

"Maybe it's his way to deal..." Again the sentence was left unfinished. They'd discussed this a thousand times before and just because it had been exactly one year since the accident the outcome wouldn't be any more insightful.

Rita reached behind her where a stack of college brochures sat on the counter. She smiled at her daughter as she passed them to her. "Have you had a chance to look at these yet?"

Ashley kept her face neutral while she cringed inwardly. She hadn't bothered looking at them because she knew what her Mum would have picked out for her: business schools, law schools and even some science stuff.

"I haven't had the time, yet, with school being so busy." She left her excuse vague hoping her mother would fill in the blanks herself.

"I see."

Ashley could see her Mum was a bit disappointed. Evidently she'd hoped by talking about the future they could at least temporarily forget the past and the present right along with it.

"I'll look through them over the weekend", she promised, knowing that wouldn't make things much easier. Especially since she had no idea what she actually wanted to do after graduation. She just knew that a career in any of her mother's favourite fields was not it.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

"I want you to team up in pairs and prepare a presentation until the end of the month." Mr. Sanders looked over the rim of his glasses at his class.

The whole room began to buzz with whispers as the students tried to secure their team mates. Ashley made eye contact with Kathy, they always worked together on assignments if they could.

Their efforts were cut short by Mr. Sander's next announcement. "Don't bother looking for a partner, I'll do that for you. And there will be no swapping teams and no bargaining for topics either."

A few of the students rolled their eyes. It was such a typical thing to do for the old history teacher. He loved to treat them all like five year olds despite graduation being only a few months. They all knew that an assignment like this would mean they were going to be doing his work and be at the front of the class, their presentations being taken apart for his amusement.

Ashley had a hunch she wouldn't like her team mate by the way Mr. Sanders' eyes glinted when he read her name. "Ashley Brennan, your partner will be Zach Owens." The teacher confirmed her suspicion. "You'll be telling us about the history of our wonderful town Valverde, right from the moment the first Spanish settlers set foot in the valley right up to the year 1846. This is where Michael Clark and Brian Edwards will start with their presentation..."

After class, Kathy came over to her friend with a sympathetic smile on her face. "Of all the jerks available you had to get the biggest." She kept her voice down so Mr. Sanders wouldn't hear her, but she rolled her eyes for emphasis.

Ashley gave her a look that made it clear she didn't want to talk about the subject. Shouldering her backpack she made her way to the door with Kathy practically bouncing beside her. It was obvious the redhead had news to share. "Okay, what's up?" Ashley prompted her.

"The weekend after next, I'll be visiting my Dad in Los Angeles." Kathy beamed.

"So?" Ashley knew Kathy's parents were separated and she regularly went to stay with her Dad on weekends. What was the big deal?

"Mum said I could drive myself!"

Now things began to make sense. Kathy had been trying to get her mother to let her drive to LA ever since she'd gotten her license over two years ago.

"She finally gave in?" Ashley's grin was almost as big as Kathy's.

"Yes, she did. But under one condition."

"What's the catch?"

"She said I had to bring someone along." Mischief glinted in Kathy's eyes as she went on. "She thinks you'd be more than suitable and I couldn't agree more."

Kathy had expected her friend to jump at the chance, instead Ashley's grin faded. "I have to think about it."

"What's there to think about? Just you and me in LA! You know my Dad won't spoil our fun. Come on, Ashley." Kathy pleaded.

Ashley just shrugged. "I can't just leave like that."

"It's just a weekend. Not the end of the world. You haven't been out with me in ages. Hell, you haven't been anywhere in ages. You can't just keep sitting at home hoping somehow everything will return to normal, you know." Kathy thought it was time someone talked some sense into her. Not that she hadn't tried before, but having her friend brush her off like that just made her want to say what was on her mind.

"I know." Ashley's shoulders sagged. "It's just... I don't know about a whole weekend just yet. Can we start with something smaller?" She knew her friend was right, she had to find a way not to let her situation get the better of her. And now, after a year, she thought she might finally be ready to take the first step.

They were interrupted by Zach as he and his friends strode up to them. All were wearing their football jackets which made them look like some kind of gang showing their colours. Ashley thought it was funny how Alison clung to Zach's arm.

"Ashley, I will not have time to do much for the presentation during the next two weeks at least." Zach all but ignored Kathy. "How about you start on your own and just tell me when you've got something to show so you can tell me what to say when presenting it in class?" The boys behind him let out an appreciative snicker as their quarterback laid out his idea of teamwork.

Kathy was as surprised as them when Ashley just said "sure" and turned to go.

"It better be good, Brennan!" Zach shouted after her, pretending he had expected nothing less of Ashley when in truth he was as stunned as the others. Kathy glared at him and started after Ashley.

"What the hell was that all about?!" she demanded when she had caught up with the girl. "Have you lost your mind?"

"And what would you have me do?" Ashley stopped abruptly and turned to face her friend.

"Stand up to him. Tell him that he can do his own homework." Kathy thought it was obvious enough.

"You know as well as I do that he won't do a thing and I'll take the blame in the end." Ashley threw her hands up. "It would start with me getting all worked up about that little halfwit, spending the next two or three weeks running after him, making a fool of myself and in the end not getting what I want anyway. So I might as well just do it myself from the start." She let out an exasperated breath.

"And by just going along with it you didn't make a fool of yourself?" Kathy met her with disbelief.

Ashley chuckled.

"What is so funny?" Kathy's eyes widened as her mind tried to grasp what she must have been missing.

"For one, I only made a fool of myself once this way, instead of giving those dumbasses the opportunity to gloat multiple times. And for two, who says that I will let this opportunity to make a fool of Zach in front of the whole class just pass me by?" Ashley broke into a grin that quickly spread to Kathy as she caught on.

"You'll have him saying whatever you want him to say in that presentation." Kathy couldn't help but giggle at the prospect.

"Yup." Ashley confirmed. "Thank god he's such an idiot. It should be easy to give him 15 minutes of fame he didn't expect. At least not like this."


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3**

Usually, Ashley would be the one to start preparing supper when she got home from school so the meal could be ready shortly after her mother came back from work. But with the anniversary of Frank's death Rita had taken a few days off. She didn't want her daughter to feel she needed to cook even when she was available, so she had started preparing the food early in the afternoon.

Rita wasn't even done cutting the onions when the doorbell rang. Wiping her fingers on a towel she started toward the door, wondering who it could be. Her mind came up empty.

It took her only a moment to recognize the dark haired man standing in front of her door. She broke into a warm smile as she greeted him with a hug. "Duncan! It's great to see you."

"Hi Rita, how are you?" Duncan answered her hug with a warm smile of his own. "I thought I'd come by and see how you're doing."

She motioned for him to come in and sit down in the kitchen without answering his question. Instead she asked him if he wanted some coffee.

"Sure, coffee would be great." Taking a seat he studied the woman he'd always known to be lively and energetic. Her movements as she took the coffee from the shelf looked well measured, as though she had to concentrate on the simple task. He waited until she took the seat across from him until he repeated his question. "How are you doing, Rita?"

"I'm fine." She tried to brush him off. "It's just not easy being alone."

"You look as if it were more than that." He told her, the worry evident in his voice.

He had been her husband's employer originally. Frank and Duncan had gotten along great from the start and despite Duncan not being in town often, a friendship had developed. One that included Rita and the kids and lasted beyond Frank's death.

Having Duncan come by like this felt oddly comforting. The last time she'd seen him had been at the funeral and even though he had said she should call if she ever needed him she had never taken him up on the offer.

He had called from time to time, but it was easy to hide the depth of her problems with Joey over the phone. And now that he was sitting in her kitchen, looking at her with those understanding eyes, she realized she needed someone besides Ashley to talk this over with.

"It's Joey." She confessed with a deep sigh. Pouring coffee she told him about her son's retreat as well as Ashley's determination to help her with the household and any other aspect of life without Frank.

When Ashley came home, she could hear voices in the kitchen.

"Oh Ashley, hey! You remember Duncan MacLeod?" Her mother greeted her as her daughter rounded the corner.

"Of course I remember Duncan, Mum." She grinned rolling her eyes a little and leaning over the table to receive a hug. "What are you doing here? I thought you were busy in Seacouver and wherever else you run your galleries?"

"I've got to take care of some business in Los Angeles and thought I'd take the opportunity to check up on you." He didn't say that the business involved finally finding a new curator for his gallery in Los Angeles. He just hadn't been able to take that final step shortly after Frank died. Even though he knew he was being sentimental and it would be bad for business not to replace his friend right away he just couldn't bear the thought. "I'll only be staying for today."

"You're welcome to stay for as long as you like, Duncan." Rita told him after a quick glance at her daughter who nodded her approval.

"Thank you, but I do need to take care of some things in Los Angeles that cannot wait." He had delayed this trip for way too long already and now that he had decided to go through with it he didn't want to wait any longer.

"But you will be staying for dinner?" Ashley had always liked the Scot. He always seemed to have something interesting to tell which probably came with the territory, him being the owner of several galleries around the globe.

"I'd love to." Duncan admitted.

While Ashley and Rita prepared the food, Duncan told them of his latest trip to Europe. Both women were fascinated when he brought Parisian flair right into their house with his stories. Ashley felt like she could smell the cool night air and see the lights of the French capital in her mind's eye. "Oh I wish I could go there."

"I'm sure you will." Duncan assured her. He loved the way her eyes lit up whenever he spoke of foreign cities. It was so refreshing to be able to feel the fascination the young girl had for things she hadn't even seen yet. "You're a bright girl, you can achieve whatever you set your mind to."

Setting down the plates on the table Rita chimed in "Who knows, you could do a semester abroad, or two if you like."

Ashley tried not to spoil her mother's night by letting her see how uncomfortable the subject of her future made her. "We'll see."

"Have you decided what you want to do after graduation yet?" Duncan was genuinely interested, but the moment the words left his lips he recognized a change in Ashley's demeanour making him regret he'd asked.

Ashley was glad when her mother decided to answer for her. "She hasn't picked a college yet. But she'll sort through some brochures at the weekend."

At that moment, Joey entered the kitchen. Ashley hadn't been this relieved to see her brother in a while and took the opportunity to change the subject. "Joey, we've got a guest." She pointed out Duncan who had already taken a seat at the dinner table.

Joey shook Duncan's hand wearily, hardly opening his mouth to greet the Scot. If Duncan was taken aback by the less than enthusiastic welcome, he didn't show it. Rita shot her son an icy look while Ashley rolled her eyes behind her brother's back, making sure Duncan would see. Unfazed, Joey tried to make his way upstairs, but was held back by his mother announcing dinner would be ready in a minute.

Promising he'd come by again soon, Duncan left after dinner. Feeling the soft night air rush by on his drive to Los Angeles his thoughts kept coming back to his friend's family.

Dinner had been strained at best. Joey seemed to be doing everything he could to impress his glum mood upon his surroundings. Rita and Ashley clearly didn't know what to do about it. Duncan didn't know either, but he had a feeling that no amount of prodding on Rita's part would do any good.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

When Duncan arrived at the gallery it was almost midnight, so he didn't stop to inspect the showroom, but headed straight upstairs for his apartment. The sensation hit him when he had barely opened the door. Sliding his sword from the lining of his coat he cautiously entered the apartment.

Moonlight filtered through the big windows in the combined living room and kitchen. Duncan noticed that none of the drapes that served to protect his furniture when he was away were still in place. In fact, the whole room looked very much lived-in, with an empty pizza carton on the counter and an empty can of beer on the living room table.

Before he could wrap his mind around why anyone would choose his apartment as residence, he heard a sound from down the hall. The door to his bed room stood open, letting a beam of light slice through the darkness illuminating a lean figure from behind.

"I'm Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod." He introduced himself the way he always did, voice steady, his weight balanced and ready for whatever his opponent might have in store for him.

But instead of striking, the figure relaxed and flipped the light switch. Chuckling, Methos leaned his sword against the wall and stepped forward to greet a rather puzzled Highlander.

"What are you doing here old man?" Duncan asked, putting his own sword away.

"I thought I could stay here for a bit."

Duncan leaned against the counter, arms crossed in front of his chest. His brow furrowed as he looked from the mess to Methos. "And you didn't think I may want to know?"

Methos just shrugged. "I didn't think you'd come here now, you haven't used this place in over a year."

"Since when do I need to tell you where I'm going when?" Duncan's displeasure was growing by the minute.

Again, his question was met with a shrug.

"You still haven't told me what it is you're doing here in the first place."

"I like the city."

Duncan sighed. Knowing he wouldn't be able to get Methos to tell him the real reason he was in LA he chose to leave it for now. "You know what? Forget it. I'm tired and all I want is a quick shower and _my_ bed." He paused for a second. "You can sleep on the couch."

---

Ashley stared at the computer screen without really seeing the website. She'd been researching Valverde all Saturday, hoping she would find just the thing to get back at Zach. It would need to be something where he and his buddies would be the only ones who didn't get the joke. The Gold Rush would probably be perfect, but it fell into Michael's and Brian's time period as it didn't start until 1848. So what was left?

"Just a bunch of boring Catholics." Ashley scrolled further down the page with a deep sigh. Spanish missionaries had settled in the region as early as the late 17th century. For over a hundred years, they had built cloisters and churches until the Mexicans claimed their land and secularized the property.

The presentation would be easy enough to do, but she had no intention of letting Zach just get away with taking credit for her work. She shoved the keyboard away and leaned back in her chair. Stretching her muscles, she yawned as the college brochures caught Ashley's eye for the umpteenth time. And for the umpteenth time the girl ignored them.

Her mother had relocated them from the kitchen counter to her desk in hopes of getting Ashley to look through them sooner. She remembered her promise to to get that done that weekend all too well, but she just couldn't bring herself to pick them up.

"Tomorrow." Ashley reached for her cell phone. "Today, I'll be keeping another promise."

Two hours later, the doorbell rang. Before her mother could call for her, she was downstairs and almost out the door.

"I'm going out with Kathy, there's a party in the old barn." Ashley grabbed her coat and turned to go when her mother held her back.

"You're going out?" Rita's voice betrayed more surprise than worry. Her daughter hadn't gone to a party in a year and now she was standing in front of her in full get-up.

"Yes, I promised Kathy." Ashley grinned as she straightened her blouse and tugged at the laces that held the bodice in place. It felt good to dress up again.

Rita could see the spark in her daughter's eyes and decided against telling her to be careful. Ashley was always careful, she didn't need her mum to tell her, it would only spoil the moment.

"Have fun!" Rita said as she watched Ashley rush down the drive to the waiting car.

---

There weren't all that many people at the barn when they arrived as it was still rather early. Kathy had been chattering non-stop ever since Ashley had gotten into the car. Mark, their designated driver, didn't seem to mind.

_He wouldn't mind it if Kathy was talking Chinese_, Ashley thought with a grin as she noticed the way the guy was clinging to her best friend not unlike Alison had been clinging to Zach. Thankfully, that was the only resemblance that she could see between the two.

Everything about the location felt improvised. From the bar at the back, to the haphazard arrangement of tables and chairs at one side of the dance floor right up to the "security arrangements" at the entrance. Those had consisted of a guy barely glancing at the girls as they passed which was just fine with them.

After getting some drinks, they sat down at one of the tables with a good view of the area around the bar.

"God I missed this." Ashley admitted with a deep sigh. Sucking vodka orange through a straw she let her eyes wander over the slowly filling barn.

Kathy grinned broadly. She still couldn't quite believe that it had been Ashley's idea to party tonight, but she liked to think her speech the other week had something to do with her friend's change.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Ashley pointing towards the bar. "Look who's here."

"Oh great." Kathy rolled her eyes. Zach was in the process of ordering drinks for himself and his girlfriend. As usual, half the football team was with him.

"What's wrong?" Mark asked turning around to see what had caught the girls' attention.

"Some idiots from school." Kathy tried to brush him off, not wanting to go into the details of their run-in with Zach. "Just ignore them."

But it was already too late. Zach had spotted them and was making his way toward their table, no doubt to demonstrate his superiority. Ashley felt a shiver run down her spine and tried to brace herself for whatever he had in mind.

"Shouldn't you be working on the presentation?" He sneered, predictability at its best.

Ashley just rolled her eyes at him which prompted Zach to show his nicest side. "I didn't even know you dared go out after dark." He paused and made a show out of assessing her attire. "You do know Halloween is in October, don't you?"

The remark was followed by a wave of derisive laughter from Zach's buddies which made Ashley want to jump up and hit Zach squarely in the face, wiping away any trace of that smug smile that played around his lips. The way he seemed to enjoy himself at her expense made her sick. But she wouldn't give him the satisfaction to let him see how much his attitude got to her. While Ashley was trying her best not to explode, she saw Kathy putting her hand on Mark's arm to prevent him from getting involved.

"Lost your speech, Brennan?" Zach tried to goad her.

"Leave her alone, Zach." Kathy spat at him jumping to her feet. She'd never had Ashley's patience, especially not when dealing with idiots like Zach.

Taking one deep breath, Ashley rose and looked Zach in the eye. With all the calmness she could muster, she said: "The way I dress is none of your business. I came here to enjoy the evening, if you don't like that, how about you take your bimbo and your backup elsewhere?"

Before he had time to react, she took Kathy's hand guiding her toward the dance floor. They could here Alison sneering at them and Mark blocking the guys' way before they vanished into the crowd.


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER 5**

"You're not the only one dressed for Halloween. Look." Kathy snickered pointing out a guy in a long leather duster. They had been making fun of Zach's attempt at humiliating Ashley all evening. Not that it had been all that funny while they actually were in the situation, but a few drinks took care of the bitter taste soon enough. Zach and his buddies leaving soon after the incident did the rest.

Ashley giggled. "I should go and introduce myself, don't you think?"

Kathy thought she might fall off her chair laughing when she shouted after Ashley: "Just be careful, he looks like he takes Halloween seriously!"

Trying not to crack up completely herself, Ashley took a deep breath and approached the guy. Kathy had been right. He looked as though he'd dressed for Halloween with his long coat and the black, tight leather trousers. Even his pale face fit the scheme. When he smiled at her though, the fangs were clearly missing. The thought made Ashley grin, but she caught herself just in time so he wouldn't notice.

From her spot at the side, Kathy watched her friend move to the bar with the stranger. Pleased that Ashley was enjoying herself, she looked around to locate Mark and have some fun of her own. She spotted him standing not far from her, looking a bit lost among all the drunken party people as he clutched a bottle of coke. He was driving after all, but when he'd signed up for it, he hadn't imagined being set aside like this.

His mood lightened considerably when Kathy came over. When she linked arms with him and rested her head on his shoulder staring at the dance floor like he had, all boredom was forgotten completely. Mark knew she was drunk, but he couldn't bring himself to think her affections might be due to the alcohol.

After letting her lean on him for a while, he pulled her into his arms and started to dance with her as the DJ played "In these Arms Tonight". Kathy seemed a little surprised, but not unhappy as she snuggled into his embrace. And who was Mark to question his luck?

---

Ashley practically stumbled outside; Chris at her heels, catching her before she fell. A drunken giggle escaped her throat. Who would've thought this evening would actually turn out so good after such a rotten start?

She let Chris lead her behind the building where he started kissing her. Her head was light, partly because of the alcohol and partly because she hadn't felt this desirable in a long time. All she could think of was how good his hands felt as they caressed her body, she didn't care that she'd just met him or that they were making out behind an old barn turned into a makeshift club.

She felt the rough wall at her back as he pushed her against it. Pinning her hands to her sides, he nuzzled at the nape of her neck. Her skin tingled as she relaxed against him. In that instant, a sharp pain shot through her. She tried to shake him off, but he was too strong.

What was he doing to her? It felt like the life was draining out of her. Had he bitten her? He couldn't have. Or could he? She tried to scream, but instead of a cry for help, only a moan left her lips. Again she tried to shove him away, but even though his grip had loosened she wasn't able to move.

Ashley collapsed to the floor when he finally released her. Everything was a blur, as if mist had taken a hold of her surroundings. A shadow moved over her and she felt thick liquid on her lips. It ran into her mouth, pooling at her throat and she swallowed. Then everything went black.

---

After having danced for what felt like an eternity to Mark, Kathy became restless. He noticed her looking left and right, finally breaking the embrace. Her eyes searched the room, suddenly more alert than drunk.

"Can you see Ashley?" She asked him, her gaze sweeping the dance floor. "She was at the bar with that guy, and now she's gone."

"I can't see her either, maybe she just went to the bathroom?"

"Together with the guy? I don't think so. It's not like her to take off with a stranger." Kathy was convinced there was something wrong. "Help me find her, please."

Mark nodded. "I'll go check the dance floor; we can't see everything from here after all."

"I'll go ask at the bar if they've seen her."

The barkeeper indeed remembered Ashley. "She and that guy she was with left towards the door. She looked like she was in for a good time if you catch my drift." His wink made Kathy's skin crawl.

Spotting Mark near the door she dragged him with her. Outside Kathy told him what the barkeeper had said.

"Let's look for her around the building first, maybe they're just looking for a little privacy." Mark didn't want anything to happen to Ashley, but he thought Kathy was overreacting a little.

When they rounded the corner, Kathy wanted to scream, but only a hollow squeal left her lips as she rushed toward Ashley's lifeless body. Blood was staining her lips and neck, her eyes stared emptily at the sky.

Mark moved around Kathy to check Ashley's pulse. When he found none, he tried to gently pull Kathy away from her friend's body. She looked at him, her eyes filling with tears. "It's all my fault." Her voice was barely a whisper. "I should've watched out for her."

"You said it yourself, it wasn't like her to take off with someone she didn't even know." Mark tried to calm her conscience even though in reality, he had no idea what Ashley was like or not. He'd met her today for the first time.

Kathy let Mark hold her for a while, her mind replaying the evening over and over until a gasping sound behind her startled her. Turning around, she saw Ashley trying to sit up. Without thinking, Kathy was at her side, helping her friend.

Mark was frozen in place. It couldn't be. He'd checked the pulse and there had been none. He watched as Ashley's pale face began to colour again.

"What happened?" Ashley felt like she'd woken up from a nightmare.

Kathy could only shake her head. "I don't know, you tell me."

Ashley's hand reached for her neck as if in trance. When she held it in front of her, there was semi-dried blood on it. "There was this guy... Chris." She struggled with her memory, everything seemed to fade like dreams fade when you wake up.

"We kissed and then..." Ashley's voice trailed off. How could she tell her friend that she thought he had bitten her? "Maybe I passed out from the alcohol." She tried to reason.

"We thought you were dead." Kathy told her. "And you've got blood at your neck."

Ashley just stared at her, unable to offer any explanation that wouldn't sound insane.

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up and home into bed." Kathy stood, helping Ashley to regain her footing. Her friend was still shaky, but very much alive and as far as Kathy was concerned, that was all that counted at the moment.

While Mark got the car, the two girls went to the club's bathroom where Kathy made a fuss out of washing away all traces of blood. While she was at it, Ashley glanced in the mirror, trying to see if there were any marks on her that could prove her theory. But there were none. She didn't even have any bruises on her arms where she thought she could still feel Chris's grip.

Ashley kept staring at her neck, as if by will alone she could find proof. But all she accomplished was her eyes playing tricks on her. She could've sworn her skin had become transparent for a second.


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER 6**

"You've been at this for days. It's not going to hurt if you leave it be for an evening." Methos wanted a beer and he didn't want to go to the pub alone. He'd done that for the past few nights and was beginning to feel like he was part of the furniture.

"Ah, well, I suppose you're right." Duncan rubbed the bridge of his nose with two fingers. "I could use a drink." With a last glance at the paperwork strewn across the table he got his coat.

At the pub, the waitress brought Methos a beer without him having ordered it.

"You've made new friends, aye?" Duncan grinned as he saw the girl glance back at Methos several times while drawing another beer for MacLeod.

"It's called charm, you should try it some time."

Duncan shrugged, taking a sip from the jug the waitress had set before him. He wasn't in the mood for banter.

"What's eating you up, Highlander?" Methos picked up on the vibe. "You've been moody ever since you arrived."

"The gallery hasn't been doing well the past year. That's all," Duncan tried to brush him off.

Methos' eyes were fixed on MacLeod when he pried: "It's more than that. It's one of your honourable quests or something, isn't it? Duncan MacLeod doesn't get worked up over some paperwork."

The Scot sighed. The old man wouldn't give up until Duncan told him, so he might as well stop wriggling. "It's Rita, all right?"

"You mean the widow of your curator?" Methos popped some peanuts into his mouth and leaned back to hear the full story.

"It's not what you think. I'm just worried about how she and her family are holding up." Duncan paused as the dinner at the Brennan house flashed through his mind. "It's been a year since Frank's accident and on the outside, everything seems fine. Rita is not the type who spills her guts easily. She never said a word on the phone, but I went by her house last week on my way here and once she started talking she could hardly stop."

When Duncan didn't continue on his own, Methos prompted: "What did she say?"

"That her son, Joey, has been retreating ever since Frank died. She can't get through to him no matter what she does. He wouldn't even come to the grave on the anniversary of his Dad's death. Basically, he doesn't do anything that involves the family unless he's forced to."

"How old is he now?" Methos' tone made it clear he thought his friend was exaggerating the situation hopelessly.

"He's 16. But still." Duncan insisted. "And Ashley feels like she has to fill in not only for Frank but for Joey as well."

"Ashley's the kid you placed with them, isn't she?" Methos had never met the family, but Duncan had shared their story with him last year after Frank had died.

"Yup. Just that she's no kid anymore." A wistful smile played across the Highlander's features. "She's 18."

"They'll be fine, just give them time."

"Maybe." The Highlander shrugged. "And maybe not... I should've visited them sooner."

Great, another one of Duncan's boy scout issues. Methos had suspected as much, but this seemed a bit farfetched even for the Scot. "And what would you have done? You can't bring their Dad back and I doubt Joey would talk to you if he doesn't talk to his mum." He raised an eyebrow.

Duncan said nothing. He felt like he should've kept this to himself, damn Methos for prodding.

After a few minutes of silence, Duncan asked: "Are you finally going to tell me why you're here?" He had tried the subtle approach for the past days and he'd grown tired of being avoided. After their conversation about him, he also thought it was his turn to pry.

"I told you, I like LA." Methos wasn't going to budge. It was none of MacLeod's business and he intended to keep it that way. Besides, how was Maxwell going to find him here, half way across the globe from Paris? And even if he had followed him out of Europe, the trail should run cold somewhere on the East Coast. Maxwell had never been the sharpest knife in the drawer, avoiding him should be easy enough.

As expected, MacLeod wasn't buying it.

"Where but here do you get to see the big movies in pre-pre-pre-premiers?" Methos changed the subject, hoping to distract the Highlander.

The old man had to be the most elusive immortal Duncan had ever met. He probably had to be, having lived for over five millennia without losing his head. Seeing he was getting nowhere, Duncan gave up. "What did you watch?"

"_Elisabeth_. It wasn't too bad, but there were some serious errors in it."

"Not everyone was actually there, if you remember." Duncan laughed at the mental image of his friend at a premier, shaking his head each time he spotted a mistake. Or worse even, pointing it out to the poor fellow next to him.

"But they can read, can't they?" Methos rolled his eyes. "I wasn't there myself either, but I know that Mary never rode in front of her troops, she outright refused to actually."

Duncan raised an eyebrow in a "so what" gesture.

"They had her ride like a man, too." When Methos saw the disbelief on his friends face, he nodded and continued: "Straddling the horse, instead of sitting on it like a lady."

Duncan shook his head and took another sip of his beer. Before he could reply, the sensation hit both immortals and they strained to see who had entered the pub. Duncan's view was obscured by the plants that had been set up to give each booth some privacy, but Methos saw all too well.

With a silent curse he grabbed his coat and made his way to the back door before Duncan could stop him. The Highlander's first thought was to go after his friend, but curiosity got the better of him. He slid over to where Methos had been sitting and looked into the direction of the entrance.

A guy with a cowboy hat that looked like it had seen better days was standing next to the bar obviously trying to pinpoint his location. His face looked just as weathered as the rough leather duster he wore.

Following Methos was out of the question now, so Duncan stepped from the booth looking the man in the misty grey eyes as he approached.

"l am Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod," the Highlander introduced himself.

"Where is Adams?" The cowboy rasped, stepping past MacLeod to inspect the booth.

"Who?" Duncan feigned ignorance. He knew the immortal had to have sensed he was not alone, but he was damned if he told him any more than that.

"John Adams," the cowboy gazed at Duncan, daring him to lie. "l know he's here."

Methos had a knack for using the name Adam in his aliases, it was no stretch for Duncan to guess that the cowboy was indeed looking for his friend.

"And how would you know that?" Attack, if you don't want to answer.

"l saw the two of you come in." The hint of a smile showed on the man's narrow lips, but it didn't make him look any less threatening. "One last time: where is he?" The smile widened into a cruel grin. "I'll take a head today one way or other. lf it's not his, then yours will do."


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER 7**

Sleep didn't come easily for Ashley that night. There was too much on her mind to find any sort of rest any time soon.

It had taken five minutes after arriving at the Brennan residence to convince Kathy that Ashley was perfectly capable of opening the door and getting into her room on her own. And no, she didn't want company either.

Ashley thought it was obvious that Kathy was feeling guilty over leaving her with that guy, but in Ashley's eyes, it wasn't her friends fault at all. It was hers and hers alone. After all, she was old enough to look after herself.

Or was she? What had gotten into her to just go outside with a complete stranger? Ashley silently shook her head for the umpteenth time as she lay in bed staring at the patterns the moonlight painted on the far wall using rustling branches of nearby pine trees as a brush.

Had it been the alcohol or the way he looked at her as if she were the most desirable person on earth? _Probably a mixture of those with a side dish of need and greed_, she though bitterly.

When Ashley had entered her home, she'd had a strange sensation. It had felt like moving through water or something even more viscous. It was gone in an instant though and she'd wondered if her mind had been playing tricks on her. So she took a step back through the door.

Her relief at the smooth transition to the outside evaporated when she felt the same resistance upon re-entering. Something wasn't right here, that much was for certain.

A re-examination of her neck and arms had confirmed that there wasn't a scratch on her. If it hadn't been for the tiny stains of blood Kathy hadn't been able to remove from her blouse, Ashley would've believed she'd been dreaming.

She could still feel Chris's hands on her though. Gentle at first but eventually keeping her in place in a vice-like grip. The thought of being helpless and of having the life drain out of her still sent shivers down her spine. Could even the worst of nightmares feel that real?

Ashley pulled the covers tighter around her. The shadow play on the wall usually soothed her, but tonight it made her think of all the horror movies she'd ever seen. Ironically, those movies seemed to give her the only explanations she could think of.

Being bitten in the neck, dying, coming back to life unscathed... these things sounded very vampire-like to Ashley. Add to that the flicker of transparency in the mirror and her difficulties entering the house. Maybe the movies just exaggerated some vampiric traits like the invitation part.

And maybe she was going nuts.

Ashley stood abruptly. She crossed the room and hesitated for a heartbeat at the window. Then she closed the blinds drowning the room in darkness. _Maybe I am nuts, _she thought_. But with all those thoughts bearing down on me, I couldn't possibly fall asleep knowing the sun will shine through here in the morning._

---

"I just had the weirdest encounter." Angel put his coat away and turned to face Cordelia who sat behind a small desk in her office going through bills. Looking up from her task, she raised an eyebrow at her boss.

Having a vampire telling you he saw something weird was pretty strange in itself. Having Angel who in his almost three centuries of "undeadness" with and without a soul had to have seen quite a lot telling you this should be priceless.

Crossing his arms, Angel leaned at the door frame to his own office. "I saw two guys with swords have at it and when they saw me, they stopped fighting and ran. "

"You must've seen some guys prepare for a film or something." Cordelia laughed. It was Los Angeles after all.

Now it was Angel's turn to raise an eyebrow. "That would've been a strange movie. One of them was dressed in cowboy gear. I'm not quite sure, but from where I was standing, he looked to be at least fifty. The other was much younger and dressed more casual. Not exactly a match made in Hollywood."

At that, Cordelia smirked. Since when did Angel know anything about the movies? "Perhaps it's one of those low budget flicks," she shrugged.

"And why would they run instead of explain? Besides, I've seen enough swordfights to know the real thing when I see it." Angel crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"But who carries a sword in the 21st century?"

"That's just it." Angel had been thinking about this all the way back to the office. "There are far easier ways to kill than that."

"Some people just aren't the gun type." Cordelia mused. "And some can't be killed with one either."

"True. But don't you think swords are a bit extreme?"

"Not for you," Cordelia remarked with a twinkle in her eyes.

"That's different."

Of course it was. Everything was always different with Angel, at least in his opinion.

"Maybe not." Stubbornness wasn't a trait exclusive to her boss. Before Angel could protest, Cordelia continued. "You use a sword 'cos you kill things that can't be killed with guns or stakes or whatever. You chop them to pieces and save the world. Maybe they save the world, too."

"I don't think so." Angel's lip curled at the suggestion. "What would they be saving by fighting each other with swords anyway?"

He had a point, but Cordelia wasn't about to give up that easily. "Maybe it's some honour thing. You know, dying in a duel instead of shooting it out."

Angel shook his head, the hint of a smile showing. Leave it to Cordelia to explore the possibilities, however unlikely. But unlikely or not, something Cordelia had said had struck a chord. Or maybe it was just recalling the events to her that did. Either way, he felt he was missing something.


	8. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER 8**

"You owe me an explanation." The door slammed shut.

Methos was sitting on the couch, laptop open in front of him. At the sound of the Highlander's voice he looked up calmly. "Did you take care of him?" he asked instead of offering what Duncan had demanded.

"No. I didn't." MacLeod crossed his arms in front of his chest after shrugging out of his coat. He stared at the old man who still seemed unaffected by Duncan's anger. "We were interrupted."

Methos raised an inquisitive brow.

"Some guy spotted us, so we parted ways," Duncan explained. "He was specifically after you, so will you finally tell me what is going on?"

"He was?" Methos' smirk betrayed that he wasn't surprised to hear that at all. The look on the Highlander's face told him to cut it out in no uncertain terms. Methos threw his hands up in defeat. "Fine. Just do me a favour and sit down, will you?"

Duncan obliged after taking two glasses and a bottle of whiskey from the cabinet.

"His name is Clarence Maxwell," Methos began. "And I guess he blames me for every wrong turn his life has taken." Methos took a sip from his whiskey, a reminiscent but mischievous smile on his face.

"It must've been around 1896 when Butch Cassidy got out of jail and returned to the Hole in the Wall. I had been laying low there for a while, helping with the planning of some minor robberies, but not leaving the valley." The smile spread into a grin. "It was a great time. Way more fun than any monastery and just as secluded."

Duncan scowled. He was in no mood for stories from "the glory days", not when he had just found himself in a duel with no clue of what this was about anyway. Not to mention his frustration at not being able to end it there and then. Methos got the hint.

"And then Butch comes back, Maxwell in tow," he continued without skipping a beat. "Granted, he wasn't immortal yet, but knowing that he would be was enough for me to dislike him. The way he behaved it wouldn't be long until his First Death either and I had no intention to stick around for _that_."

Experience had taught MacLeod that Methos could be anything and probably had been anything he wanted to, but he had a hard time imagining him as a teacher. Before meeting Duncan he had confessed to not having taken a head for two centuries and even now he was avoiding other immortals whenever he could. A student just didn't fit in with that lifestyle.

"So you left?" Duncan guessed while asking himself how the other guy could be holding a grudge for Methos if that were the case.

"I was thinking about leaving," Methos confirmed, "but then I realized I could do better. _He_ would be the one leaving, not me. After seeing his taste for settling disputes with guns I tried to convince Butch that the kid had to go."

"Sure the others in the gang were no saints either," Duncan pointed out.

"No, but they knew the difference between necessity and childish shows of strength... for the most part anyway." There was that grin again. He continued more sombre: "Maxwell tried to solve everything with his gun. Even fights over a game of poker at the camp. There was a very fine line between joking with him and staring up the barrel of his gun. Butch could see that, too, but he'd met the guy in prison and wanted to give him a chance. Long story short, Maxwell got himself into trouble on an almost daily basis, so Butch finally sent him on his way a few weeks later."

"That still doesn't explain why he's after your head," Duncan stated, trying not to sound too irritated. Why did Methos have to make a secret out of every damn thing?

"Maxwell was a rather, shall we say, simple man," Methos' voice left no doubt that he thought this to be the understatement of the century. "In his mind, it was my fault that Butch kicked him out because he knew I had spoken against him on more than one occasion." He swallowed the rest of his whiskey and set the glass down on the table. "Apparently he blames me for just about anything then went wrong since then as well."

Duncan's puzzled look prompted Methos to turn the laptop so MacLeod could see what he had been working on. The Scot wasn't surprised to see it was Maxwell's Watcher chronicle. He skimmed through the file. It was rather lengthy for someone so new to the Game, but Duncan soon found that most of it were the Watchers' attempt at reconstructing the guy's mortal life. His aliases alone took up half a page.

"He's lasted longer than you gave him credit for." Duncan pointed at the date of Maxwell's First Death. "August 1909."

"Yeah, sure." Methos snorted. "Did that guy look like 50 to you?"

It was a rhetorical question, so Duncan let it go.

"Half of this is crap, hell, most of it is." Proving his point, Methos quoted from an article that was included in the chronicle. It had appeared in the _Salt Lake Tribune_ and was dated May 31, 1898: "_He is without doubt the sharpest and brightest criminal local officers ever handled._ The Maxwell I knew was as sharp as a marble."

"And this proves that he blames you how?" Duncan pressed, exasperation now clear in his voice.

Methos grinned widely and Duncan knew he had been had before the old man spoke. "It doesn't."

Even though the Highlander knew admitting to being annoyed was likely to make it worse, he couldn't help it. He glared at Methos. As predicted, it had no effect other than to make the world's oldest immortal laugh.

That was it. Duncan stood and turned to go. "I'll go shower, we'll talk about it in the morning."

"Killjoy," Methos mumbled as the MacLeod vanished out of sight.


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

"I'm telling you I turned her," Chris insisted for what felt to him like the millionth time.

The older vampire's answer didn't change, though. "She probably wasn't really dead, you were too fast as always." He pronounced each word delicately, as if speaking to someone who was mentally impaired. His British accent drove the point home in no uncertain terms.

Chris could see he was getting on the other's nerves now and decided to shut his mouth. It was never a good idea to get on Spike's bad side. While he'd only known the vampire for a short while, maybe a week or two he couldn't quite remember, he knew that much of him.

The platinum blonde vampire had shown his ill temper the moment he came into town. He'd stomped into the old Montrose Mansion as if he owned the place. Lennard, the self-proclaimed boss of the vampires living here, hadn't liked being made a fool of in front of his crew. He was the oldest vamp in town after all and he'd tried to show everyone who was in charge by attacking the newcomer... He shouldn't have.

Chris still flinched at the thought of Spike turning with deadly efficiency and driving a stake through Lennard's heart. The look on the old vamp's face had been one of utter surprise before he crumbled into dust. No one else had dared oppose Spike since. They were all eager to please him and some, like Chris himself, were hoping to learn a thing or two along the way.

"Are you still here?" Annoyance seeped through every syllable, jolting Chris from his reverie. Leaving his boss in the great room, he once again thought of the girl, Ashley. How cool it would've been to have her as companion, to have someone who would hang on _his_ every word for a change.

Chris still couldn't fathom why it hadn't worked. He'd felt the life drain out of her and he'd let her drink his own blood. She should've stayed dead for at least two or three nights, probably more. She should've been buried and mourned and then he would've been there when she rose again, helping her satiate her hunger, making her adore him.

---

Usually, the morning sun would wake her, so it took Ashley a few minutes to realize where she was. Then she remembered that she had closed the blinds herself. While it was comforting to know that she was in fact in her own bed, the memory of last night's events was not.

_Get a grip_, Ashley chided herself. She just had had way too much to drink, that was all. Her stomach was grumbling; a look at the clock told her it was already past noon. With a sigh designed to dispel the remnants of her nightmares, she pushed back the covers.

Despite her rationalizations, her heart thumped louder and faster in her chest as she started to open the blinds. The first rays of the sun illuminated the far wall making her dresser look like a strangely lit altar. At the thought of make-up sacrifices being made to the God of Nightlife Ashley smiled in spite of herself.

She finished opening the blinds and carefully reached out with a trembling hand. Her mind screamed at her to get it together while her instincts told her to get out and stop being so experimental. Her mind won.

The sunlight felt warm on her outstretched arm, but nothing out of the ordinary happened. No sizzling, no burning, nothing. Ashley heaved what she thought was the biggest sigh ever. "See?" she told herself firmly, "all just a bad dream."

Shaking her head over how childish she had behaved she got dressed and went into the kitchen to find breakfast. The room was bathed in bright light that made the wooden cupboards gleam like gold. Her stomach rumbled again and she quickly gathered a bowl, a spoon, milk and a family box of fruit loops and sat down at the counter to eat.

Ashley was at her second helping when Joey entered the kitchen. She eyed him wearily as he got a bowl for himself and sat across from her. He ignored just as she ignored him until she reached for the box to refill again.

"You've got quite the appetite today," Joey observed. Ashley could see mischief glinting in his eyes and chose not to react.

"Shouldn't you be groping for aspirin and staying in bed all day?" He brandished his spoon at her emphasizing his point.

Ashley glared at him. "What I should or shouldn't do is none of your business. Since when do you care anyway?" Anger welled up inside her. One night of fun, one measly night out and he thought he could lecture her? "You never care about anyone but yourself, so why don't you just keep it that way?"

Before Joey could say anything, she continued: "You just sit in your fucking room all day and leave everything to us. Dealing with the funeral arrangements, with the wake and the condolences, with insurance and with getting our lives back to a semblance of normal," she ticked off on her fingers. It felt so good to let it all out. "Mum is working her ass off for us and you can't even talk to her once in a while?!"

"As if any of you wanted to hear what I have to say," Joey tried defending himself. He'd never seen his sister this angry.

The feeble answer didn't seem to go down well with Ashley. Joey didn't quite know how, but one second, she was glaring at him and the next she was on her feet and he found himself pinned to the cabinet. Her eyes were inches away from his and her right hand was at his throat as she hissed: "That's a sorry excuse for leaving us alone for a fucking year!"

Joey thought he saw her eyes turn yellow as he was trying to say something, but all he could manage was a croaking sound. Ashley suddenly turned white and let him go. She stared at him incredulously as he rubbed his throat and caught his breath. Then she whirled around and stormed from the kitchen.


	10. Chapter 10

_Sorry it's taking me so long between updates. I'm trying to sort out my story arches and once I've done that it should go faster again._

_Thank you to everyone reading this - and especially to those commenting. I thrive on feedback :D  
_

---

**CHAPTER 10**

Ashley slammed the door of her room shut behind her. What the hell had just happened? Since when did she resort to violence? She shook her head slowly to clear it, then she stared at her reflection in the mirror. As she leaned closer, she gripped the sides of her wooden dresser to keep from losing her balance.

But her light grey eyes stared back at her without being able to provide any answers. Then she saw it. At first she wasn't certain if she had imagined it. She shut her eyes tightly and counted to ten before opening them again. Ashley brought her right hand to her face, but it didn't change the fact that this time she was sure her reflection was flickering, becoming transparent and coming back in rapid succession.

She felt her heart beat faster and faster seemingly mimicking the flickering in the mirror. And then her reflection vanished completely. Her heart almost skipped a beat as she stared at the mirror in terror.

Ashley pushed back from the dresser, clasping her other hand over her mouth to stifle the scream that escaped her throat. Her eyes were still fixed on the mirror even though she wanted nothing more than to look away.

---

Kate let herself fall onto the couch with a sigh of contentment. She had a great book to read and still some of yesterday's lasagna in the fridge to finish off later. Kate loved lazy Sundays and she felt she'd earned this one especially.

The paperwork to finally seal the case of the barkeeper-gone-serial-killer had taken up so much of her time during the past week that she hadn't had much energy left in the evenings to read. But this afternoon was hers alone.

Kate hadn't even really settled into the story yet when the phone rang. At first, she was determined to just let it ring. But the caller obviously was a patient man as the ringing just didn't stop. Thinking that she'd better answer and get rid of whoever it was fast then, she lifted the receiver with a sigh of defeat.

"Lockley."

"Ross here. We need you to come in today." The apologetic voice of Detective Laurence Ross made Kate's skin tingle with a dark sense of foreboding. If Ross was calling her in on a Sunday, it had to be bad.

Her suspicions were confirmed as her colleague continued: "A man was found in an alley, his head chopped off by something very sharp." He gave her the address and she promised to be there as fast as she could.

---

When Kate arrived at the scene a considerable crowd had gathered. They were held at bay by yellow crime scene tape and a few uniformed officers. She flashed her badge at one of them and ducked under the tape.

Careful not to ruin any trace evidence that a team of forensic specialists were gathering, she approached Ross. He was standing at a dumpster talking to the coroner. The headless body lay on the floor behind them, thankfully shielded from the crowd's view by the dumpster.

"Any leads so far?" Kate asked the two men, her eyes searching the area for the head. She spotted it a few feet away.

"The head was severed with a very sharp object as I told you earlier," Ross filled her in while the coroner acknowledged Kate's presence with a sharp nod and went back to examining the body. Kate crouched down next to him, noting how clean the cut was.

"According to his wallet, the victim's name was Kent Aldridge. He's 34 years old and judging by the address on his license and his clothes, not the kind of person to wander dark alleys." Ross pointed at the body. While casually dressed, the clothes looked expensive.

"His death was sometime between 11pm and 2am last night," the coroner interjected.

"If he'd been stabbed, I'd say it was a mugging, but this..." Kate shrugged, letting the sentence hang between them. "What else was on him?"

"The wallet contained almost thirty dollars, a key card for one of the big office buildings downtown, his driver's license and a few calling cards," Ross was shuffling through them as he gave Kate the lowdown, "one realtor and quite a few doctors. Oh and this must be his own... he was a lawyer specialising in medical law suits. That explains that then.

"Other than his wallet, he just had car keys on him."

"Any idea why he was in this area?" Kate stood again, observing the forensic team lifting fingerprints off the dumpster and collecting god knows what into evidence bags.

"We think he may have been at one of the pubs or bars in the area," Ross shrugged. "But we haven't found the car yet, so we can't be sure."

Kate glanced around thoughtfully, taking in the scene, trying to see what they were missing. The alley looked like any other back alley, just a narrow passage between two houses, fire exits blocking the view from the few windows. _Not that anyone here would be interested in looking out for their neighbours,_ Kate thought bitterly. "Who called it in?" she asked, realizing at least one person must've looked after all.

"Valerie Johnson," Ross read from his note pad. She lives in that building," he jerked a thumb at it, "She was a wreck and we sent her to the precinct with the counsellor. He'll try to get her to give us a coherent statement," Ross sighed, betraying that he didn't think that she'd be able to tell them much even if she actually gave a statement. Kate looked at him directly, her gaze probing him.

"She was freaked out," Ross shrugged. "Finding a headless body will do that to you. Plus she found him only an hour ago, there's no way she could've seen anything."

"The interesting thing - well, besides the headless body itself - are those scorch marks forensics found," Ross stepped behind the body and showed Kate several blackened spots on the wall and even the metal railings of the fire exit. "We've got no idea what could've caused these."

Kate approached the nearest black stain and peered at it closely. They reminded her of the stains you get when a candle burns too close to a wall. But what would anyone do with a candle out here? Never mind a dozen.

"And then there's the two broken windows up there," again Ross pointed to show her.

Kate looked around puzzled, as there was no glass on the ground. However, now that she knew where to look she could see the two windows in question behind the metal fire exit had no glass in them.

"What makes you so sure this is related? It's not exactly the nicest neighbourhood after all," she remarked.

"Well, we've found the glass that used to be in them inside the respective apartments. As if the windows had been broken from the outside..."

"So? Someone used the fire exit to break in," Kate shrugged, wondering if her colleague would get to the point sometime today.

"Our officers have been knocking on doors, starting with the two apartments in question," Ross took his time with the explanation. "One of the residents wasn't home during the night, but the other claimed the window shattered because of a thunderstorm at around 1.30am last night."

Kate looked at him incredulously. "A thunderstorm?"

Ross nodded. "Martin Freemore is an elderly guy whose bedroom is behind that window. He said he woke up shortly before the window broke because he heard strange sounds from the alley which he described as," Ross looked at his notepad, "'metallic, clanging sounds'. Before he could get out of bed to take a look, he saw lightning through the window. He claims one lightning bolt hit it and blasted it inward." Ross shook his head mimicking Kate.

"I have a hard time believing that, too," Ross ensured her, "but I spoke to him myself and old as he may be, he didn't seem lucid or crazy or anything." Ross shrugged as if to say it wasn't his fault that this case was so damn weird.

"Lightning might explain the scorch marks," Kate speculated, but immediately dismissed the thought. Just like a dozen candles were unlikely as the source, so were a dozen localized lightning strikes, especially in LA where the sky had been clear for days.

"He probably had a nightmare or something," Kate concluded weakly. Turning to go, she said: "If there's nothing else, I'll be at the office, trying to find out more about our victim."


	11. Chapter 11

_I've finished quite a few chapters since uploading last, my excuses for the update taking so long. I still might be slow to post cos I want to keep the possibility of going back a few pages and editing continuity stuff if I need to. _

_Reviews (positive, negative, whatever) are greatly appreciated!_

**CHAPTER 11**

After hiding in her bed for hours, Ashley came to a conclusion. She wouldn't be cowering here, waiting for the other shoe to drop like a scared child. She would compose herself and go back to the Barn to find out just what in hell had happened the night before.

In the bathroom, she splashed cold water into her face. Glad that her reflection had come back, Ashley stared at herself in the mirror, trying to see past the scared teen and into the eyes of a determined woman. Her hands shook a little when she liberally applied make-up to cover the fact that she had cried. When she was done, Ashley steeled herself.

Grabbing her purse from her room she tip-toed downstairs. The least thing she wanted right now was to face her brother - or her mum for that matter. She had no time for explanations, especially since she didn't have any. And even as freaked out as she was, she could imagine the situation getting worse by bringing her family along to the Barn, adding humiliation to the mix of emotions thundering through her mind. No, this one, she had to do alone.

Ashley could hardly believe her luck when she managed to get out of the house without being seen. Getting her bike from the garage, she hastily got on it and sped off without looking back. While Ashley wasn't the most athletic, she did love her bike. It beat waiting for the bus any day.

The sun felt hot on her bare hands and arms and the light was blinding, but Ashley ignored it, focusing on the matter at hand. When she arrived at the Barn, she had played the upcoming conversation with the barkeeper in her head a dozen times. She'd go in, ask him where she could find Chris and then go and get some answers from him. And kick him in the groin for what he'd done. Or maybe she could just snap his neck. That would be fun.

The thought startled her and Ashley shook her head to clear it as she approached the Barn's front door. She tried the handle only to find that the door was locked.

_Damn, Ashley, what on earth were you thinking going to get answers in a club in the middle of the afternoon?_ her mind screamed at her. Her shoulders drooped as she tried to figure out what to do.

Standing in the shade of the Barn, she absently rubbed her hands over her arms. The sun had really felt hot and even now, the back of her hands tingled. Her arms felt strangely rough to her touch. Looking down the sight of blisters all over her bare arms and the back of her hands startled her. But what made her almost jump out of her skin was the fact that the blisters seemed to be healing as she watched tiny blue lights flick across them. Within seconds, there was no trace of damage left.

Fighting off the urge to run and hide, Ashley breathed in deeply. She could hardly hide from herself, she reasoned much like she had done earlier in her room. She needed to find Chris now more than ever. Clinging to that thought, she rounded the Barn, searching for another way in. Maybe she could find out where the barkeeper lived.

Ashley had circled the building once without luck, when a car pulled up at the side entrance. Peering around the corner, Ashley watched the barkeeper get out and stepping towards the door fumble with his keys.

Without thinking, Ashley ran over to him and pinned the burly man to the door, jerking his left arm behind his back. Applying pressure, she snarled: "Where's Chris?"

The barkeeper squirmed in her grip, but despite him being taller and heavier than the girl, he couldn't break free. When he didn't answer her immediately, she twisted his arm upward. A small cry escaped the man's mouth before he stammered: "I don't know who you're talking about."

The sound of his whimpering voice made Ashley realize what she'd just done. Abruptly, she let him go. The barkeeper pressed his back against the door as he was sizing her up, his eyes widening in disbelief at the fact that a girl had just slammed him into the wall.

Standing between the man and his car, Ashley tried to sound sure of herself and non-threatening when she spoke: "I was at the club yesterday and I was hoping you'd remember the guy I was with. We were sitting at the bar for a while, you know." Somehow she doubted she sounded as reassuring as she'd hoped, because the barkeeper took a step sideways, trying to circle her.

"His name was Chris," Ashley continued, taking a step sideways herself. "Well, at least that was the name he gave me... do you know where I can find him?"

The man's face didn't betray any recognition, but she could practically see the wheels in his mind turn.

"Just tell me and you won't see me again," she promised, her voice laced with unspoken threat.

"I don't know him by name," the man reluctantly let on, "but I've seen his kind around. If you really want to find him, try the old Montrose Mansion."

Not trusting herself to say anything remotely kind, Ashley turned on her heels and headed for her bike. She briefly wondered where all that anger and rage were coming from, but decided not to dwell on it in favour of finally getting some answers.

---

When his sister made her exit, Joey was standing at his window watching her ride away.

Ashley's accusing words hurt more than the bruises from where her hands had been at his throat. He'd checked in the mirror, the redness was fading already, but he couldn't believe that she really thought he didn't care.

He'd gotten the impression that his sister and Mum had wanted him to leave them to themselves before his father's accident. After the tragedy Joey had seen no reason to change his ways. The only person who would not just ask him what he'd done all day because it was "what you do", but because he was actually interested, had been his Dad.

Looking back on the last year, though, Joey had to admit that both women had tried. It wasn't their fault that they couldn't relate to computers the way his Dad could. He sighed. Maybe they should've had that fight earlier... well, minus the choking anyway, and maybe he wouldn't have listened then. Joey didn't know.

All he did know was that something was wrong with his sister. And it wasn't just her behaviour in the kitchen. Joey had followed her upstairs after catching his breath, intent on confronting her, but when he had reached Ashley's door he had heard her sob inside. It had sounded desperate, and not in the same way she had cried after they'd gotten the news of their father's accident. He couldn't quite put his finger on the difference, but it had been enough for him to leave her be.

And now she was leaving as if the devil himself were on her heals. All he could think was that before he would be able to get his own bike, she'd be too far away to follow. He could just sit here and wait for her to get back, hoping whatever she was after, she'd find it without it finding her... the memory of her eyes turning yellow was still too vivid in his mind to wait without wondering what his sister had gotten herself into.


	12. Chapter 12

**CHAPTER 12**

When Duncan had woken up, there had been no sign of Methos besides the chaos he had left him with.

"Typical," Duncan had huffed while cleaning up after the oldest immortal. "One would think he'd learn to do this himself after 5000 years." Methos hadn't even left a message, he'd just vanished. After several failed attempts to call the elder immortal on his cell, Duncan resigned to finish cleaning up and brewing some coffee. With that, he settled down in the office going through his paper work.

He was making good progress, when his cell phone's vibration alarm set off, the whole desk caught in the movement, startling him. When he saw the caller ID his eyes narrowed.

"This had better be good!" he barked by way of greeting.

"What?" Methos started and Duncan could practically see his mischievous grin as the old man continued: "You're the one who has to do a formal introduction before any given challenge, not me. Or do you really want me to believe you've just _not_ done that last night with our good friend?"

Duncan mumbled something along the lines of that being the proper thing to do, before asking: "Where are you?"

"I'm not going to tell you over the phone," Methos answered and Duncan couldn't help but note with satisfaction that the old man was predictable in his own way. There was nothing like a healthy dose of paranoia to make it over the millennia, head intact. Though Duncan doubted _healthy_ was the word he'd use to describe it.

"Then why are you calling anyways?"

"Well, at first I was just going to give you the slip," Methos admitted, "but I've run into an unexpected turn of events, and wanted to warn you to get out of the city. This could get messy."

Methos warning him of another immortal like that? Duncan shook his head. Every time he thought he had the ancient immortal figured, he did something to surprise him.

"I can take care of myself, thank you very much," he assured Methos. After a brief pause, he added: "And what exactly did you run into?"

"A headless body and a whole lot of police just a few blocks from where you were interrupted yesterday. I'd say our friend has run out of patience."

Duncan rolled his eyes. "So what if he has? He didn't seem to be the most formidable opponent. If he comes here, let him come. Besides, I have a few interviews lined up tomorrow, for the new curator. I am not going to go anywhere until my business here is concluded."

Duncan could've sworn he heard an exasperated sigh from the other end of the line. "Fine, have it your way. But don't say I didn't warn you."

With that, the line went dead and Duncan was again left to wonder what had gotten into Methos to bother warning him at all. The old man knew what the Highlander could do with a sword and Duncan knew just as well that giving out one's name like he usually did could result in some nasty visits from unhappy people.

So what was different this time?

---

"What is it with Americans and their bloody cartoons?" Spike grumbled and started zapping through the channels again. He glanced up at the window of the Mansion's second living room. All windows except the north bound ones had been boarded over to keep the inhabitants from spontaneous combustion. It would still be a few hours before dawn, before he could finally get out of this place again.

He shifted on the old, flower-ornamented couch. It might've been an expensive and modern piece of furniture back when Montrose had the place built, but it would never win an award for comfort. At least they put in electricity before the lineage had dried up and the house fell into disrepair.

Finding nothing even remotely worth watching, Spike turned the TV off and flung the remote across the room. It had been a dumb idea to stay in this town after leaving LA. Initially, he had thought he could gather some followers and then return to Sunnydale to finally get rid of that Slayer. But the longer he stayed the more his followers turned out to be the most hopeless of all vampires he'd ever met.

It was evident they just survived because the locals didn't know how to deal with creatures of the night. Even the most dim-witted vamps in Sunnydale could tear these useless pricks apart, simply because the Slayer kept them on their toes.

Spike shook his head and rose. It was time to get the hell out of this forsaken place. Maybe he could get to his DeSoto despite the sun still being up. Spike grabbed his coat and as he turned to leave, the town managed to surprise him for the first time since he'd set foot in it.

A girl dressed in a white t-shirt and light blue jeans was standing in the doorway, her grey-green eyes watching him. She obviously had no idea what he was, because her face showed no fear whatsoever. She fumbled with the straps of her purse, looking as though she were trying to find the right words to start a conversation.

"My, my, what do we have here," Spike asked her with a mischievous grin as he stepped closer. Oh this would be fun.

The girl stepped away from him, her eyes locked on the vampire. "I'm looking for Chris," she said with a slight tremor in her voice.

"And why's that, love?"

The girl hesitated only a moment. "I met him at the Barn and I believe he needs to give me some answers."

Could this be the girl the obnoxious Chris had tried to turn? Was she here to get the guy to be her boyfriend, thinking he'd abandoned her after a one-night-stand?

"What kind of answers?" Spike pried.

"That's between him and me." The girl's face hardened in resolution. There was more to her than met the eye, Spike liked that.

"Is it now?" he grinned. "Then we should get him to join us. Why don't you sit while I get him." It wasn't an invitation and the girl knew it. Reluctantly, she took a seat on the couch.

Satisfied she was doing as he'd said, Spike yelled down the hall for Chris.

---

Ashley sat down on the flowery couch, breathing in the stale air that came off of it, her eyes not leaving the blonde guy in the doorway. What on earth had she been thinking coming out here alone? What was done was done, though, there was no use dwelling on it. She'd find a way out, she was certain of that. First, however, there would be answers.

Chris appeared at the doorway, looking like the cat that had swallowed a canary. The blonde looked from her to Chris and back, obviously enjoying himself at the others' discomfort. He gave Chris a push, sending him nearly stumbling into the room and towards Ashley who rose and glared at Chris.

"I'd like some answers," she said more evenly than her fast beating heart should've allowed.

When Chris didn't say anything, the blonde strode into the room, pushing Ashley back down onto the couch. "Is that her?" he asked, his voice filled with menace.

Chris nodded and swallowed hard while Ashley was beginning to doubt her earlier assessment of getting out of there somehow. She was surprised to find the blonde sitting down next to her and saying pleasantly: "Then you should tell her what you told me." He gestured for Chris to take a seat across from them.

"Well," Chris started hesitantly. One glance from the blonde however made him spill it. "I thought I'd turned you, but I must've done something wrong." He shrugged as if that said it all.

Ashley looked at him incredulously, at a loss for words. She'd speculated about vampires with all that had happened, but this was just too surreal. Ashley shook her head and started to laugh hysterically.

"I must've done something wrong," the blonde mocked Chris. "Well, obviously you did, or her heart wouldn't be beating any longer, now would it?"

Ashley's laughter was quenched by the spite in the other's voice as much as the panicked expression on Chris' face.

"Maybe I should show you how it's done!" With that, the blonde's features changed into those of a monster with yellow eyes and ridges on his brow. In one smooth motion, he grabbed her and tried to go for her neck.

At that moment, something in Ashley snapped and in a fit of rage, she shoved the vampire off of her with such a force, that he landed on the small coffee table, shattering it. She was on her feet by the time Chris could react to what was happening. He tried to grab her, but again, Ashley pushed him away. This time, the force was enough to fling the vampire almost all the way across the room.

_Damn, my purse!_ Ashley thought as she saw Chris hold onto it even as he fell into the sideboard. The blonde vampire was already back up on his feet. Ashley ran for her life, all the way down the corridor and to the half open window through which she'd come in. She could hear frantic cries of "Hold her!" and feet trampling down stairs as she pulled free. Running across the courtyard, Ashley glanced back, falling into a light jog as she saw that her pursuers were kept at bay by the sunlight.


End file.
